


Ridiculous

by nomequedamas



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-23 22:34:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9684044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomequedamas/pseuds/nomequedamas
Summary: Listen... I saw this photo of Walter Koenig in these tiny shorts and that's exactly what inspired me to make this. I just need everyone who reads this to know that.





	

Ridiculous. That's exactly what this was. Absolutely ridiculous. You never thought of yourself as the type to get turned on by ridiculous things, but alas, here you were. 

  


You were supposed to be going over star charts with Chekov, in fact, that's what you're  _ still  _ supposed to be doing. That's what you're  _ pretending  _ to be doing right now. But Chekov, he had the absolute  _ audacity  _ to walk in right after a workout, and you learned something new about him: he wears tiny, form-fitting shorts when he exercises. And he didn't feel the need to change out of them before he saw you. 

  


“So sorry!” He had said. “I got carried away working out! I came over straight away. I hope I’m not too late.” 

  


“Not at all,” You replied, forcing your eyeballs to keep up eye contact instead of drifting downwards to where  _ everything  _ was on display. Shorts like

this should be illegal. They were even regulation — you had no idea Starfleet created regulation workout shorts that tiny! 

  


When he turned around and bent over to grab his PADD out of his bag, you nearly rolled your eyes. You knew he had a nice ass, it was obvious  _ enough  _ through his regular uniform pants, but now? Really, the only word to describe this is ridiculous. 

  


So now here you were, sitting directly next to him, sneaking glances at his crotch while ostensibly studying star charts with him. 

  


“Hey?” You shook your head and snapped out of the daze. He had been calling your name, and you'd been staring at his shorts. “You there?” 

  


“Yes — yes, sorry.” 

  


“What's going on? You seem distracted.” 

  


“Nothing, nothing.” He looked at you, and you noticed the dimmest glimmer of mischief. Or maybe you're imagining things. 

  


“Are you sure?” He turned his body to face you and absentmindedly spread his legs. You couldn't help it, it was second nature: You glanced down. His package was adjusting in his shorts as he moved, and it was mesmerizing. As you stared, you felt your underwear growing wet. You really couldn't control yourself. 

  


Realizing he was looking at you, you glanced back up to meet his gaze. Maybe he wouldn't have noticed? But no, he had a very different expression on his face from before. Something you couldn't quite read. 

  


“Pavel, I—”

  


“–So you like my shorts.” It was more of a statement than a question. Of course you liked his shorts. They were tacky and ugly and not at all fashionable, but damn if they didn't hug his body in all the right ways. 

  


“Listen, I can ex—”

  


“–There's no need.” Aw, great. Now you're really fucked. You just made yourself out as a huge pervert and he's disgusted by you. 

  


You stared at him, unable to think of how to reply. The two of you looked at each other for what felt like centuries, but was in reality probably only seconds. This was the hot seat, and you were sitting right in it. 

  


Suddenly, he took your wrist and placed the palm of your hand on the bulge of his shorts. Just that moment, your heart raced and you felt yourself growing ridiculously wet. Was this really happening? How? Is this not the stupid, predictable plot of a low budget porn? 

  


Besides your own personal reservations, you squeezed. He sucked in a sharp breath, and tingles ran down your spine. This wasn't bad. This was not half-bad at all. 

  


“I noticed you staring the second I came in.” Well, damn it. Apparently you were worse than you thought at hiding your affections. 

  


“I’m sorry, I – your shorts…”

  


“Don't be sorry. I've actually hoped this would happen.” Cue record scratch. What?

  


“Really?” He stared back at you like he was looking into your soul. Suddenly, he lurched forward and your lips were pressed against each other’s. 

  


Chekov was astoundingly adept at kissing, because of course he was. His lips, soft and pliant, moved gracefully against yours as he brought his hands up to cup your cheeks and jaw. There had been many a time where you stared at his mouth, at the curve of his lips, wishing you could feel them against yours, and now here it was. It was everything you could've hoped for. 

  


He rolled his hips into your hand and you squeezed again, earning a breathless groan into your mouth. His cock began to harden through his shorts, and soon you could feel the outline of it. Of course he had an impressive length. Of  _ course. _

  


“Do you think,” You began, pulling away, “Someone will come in here? Should we go somewhere else?” Chekov looked at you for a moment, then looked around, seemingly just remembering that you were in engineering (supposedly) studying starcharts. He turned to the console and hit the lock, hearing it  _ click! _ closed. 

  


“Now nobody will come in here.” Damn. You always knew Chekov was a risk-taker but semi-public sex? Now  _ this  _ you could get into. 

  


You and him met again, mouths colliding, as he began to undo the zipper on your regulation uniform dress. It fell to the ground, forgotten, and he pushed you backwards against the console. You laid down, back against the cold metal of the starchart machine, and he bent down between your legs, pulling your underwear off with a glint in his eye. 

  


As soon as he descended on you, you flinched. Not only were you ridiculously sensitive, but he was  _ amazing.  _ He hoisted your thighs over his shoulders and buried his lips and tongue inside you, moving them and licking in a way you had never experienced before. When he flattened his tongue against your clit, you gripped the edges of the console and bit back a yell. 

  


He pulled away and looked up at you, lips and chin glistening with your juices. You had always thought it enticing when you watched him drink, the wetness of whatever he was drinking reflecting off of his mouth, but you never knew why. Now, you had just found out. 

  


“Don't stop yourself,” He encouraged. “This room is soundproofed.” God, he didn't even have to say it explicitly and you were turned on. 

  


His tongue resumed its torturous actions, and you leaned your head back against the console, breathing heavily. When he slipped a finger inside you, you moaned, the sound buzzing up through your neck and escaping out of your mouth. 

  


Just as you were about to come, all ministrations stopped, and he stood. You whined and looked down at him, needing so badly to get off. He pulled his cock out of his shorts and stroked himself a few times. Yep, ridiculously impressive length. Your mouth watered just looking at it, the veins bulging and the tip of his head slick with precome. 

  


He made eye contact with you just as he pushed in, but you couldn't maintain it. You squeezed your eyes shut and let your head fall back. It felt like you were being split into two, in the best goddamn way possible. 

  


Slowly, he began to build up rhythm, pushing in and out of you first gently, but gradually getting more intense. He leaned forward, his chest pressed against yours, to get a better angle. The only sounds were of your two ragged breaths, the obscene slapping of skin against skin, and the hum of the ship’s engines underneath you. 

  


Somehow, the location made this even more exciting. The fact that you could get caught any moment by some ensign, or even worse, by Lieutenant Commander Scott. You didn't know him, but Chekov did, and for a moment you almost wished he would barge in on the two of you. You wanted someone to see. 

  


Chekov began mumbling something in Russian, and you didn't have to know the language to know it was expletives. Curses sound the same in every tongue. Soon, he thrusted in and hit the very  _ right  _ spot, and your back arched and you wrapped your arms around Chekov, digging your nails into his back. You felt him smile against your neck, and he pushed in the same way, over and over, torturing you. 

  


His thrusts were beginning to stutter and his breath became less even, and that's how you knew he was about to let go. You couldn't take much more anyways. As a last measure, he reached down and rubbed your clit with his hand, the stimulation sending you flying over the edge. Your mouth fell agape, your eyes screwed shut, your fingernails scraping down his back. Fireworks burst behind your eyelids, sensation spread like wildfire throughout your body. From the tips of your fingers to the tips of your toes, your entire body was flush with ecstasy.

  


He was not very far behind. One last thrust in, and you heard him groan. It was quite possibly the most rewarding thing you'd ever heard. You felt his hot come shooting inside of you, spreading throughout your insides, and he pulled out just enough for it to spill out of your lips. You felt it dripping down your thighs and ass, and damn if that wasn't one of the best feelings. 

  


Chekov reached down again, this time using his fingers to spread your lips and cover his hand in the mixture of your fluids and his come. He brought his hand back up and you took his fingers into your mouth obediently. 

  


He opened his mouth to speak, but just then there was a knocking at the door. 

  


“Hey — who locked this?” It was the voice of Montgomery Scott. You shared a nanosecond of a look with Chekov before rushing to clothe yourselves once again. As soon as you were presentable, he unlocked the door and whipped out a star chart, pretending to be asking you something. 

  


The two of you looked up as Scotty walked in. 

  


“Sorry, sir,” Chekov began, “I must’ve locked it by accident.” Scotty took in the sight of the two of you, shiny with sweat, your hair sticking up, your clothes duly wrinkled. 

  


“Chekov…” Scotty began, and then he sighed. “We’ll talk about this later.” Chekov grinned at him in response, and Scotty turned to walk back out the door. 

  



End file.
